


Klaine Advent Challenge 2014

by wunderxfunk



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderxfunk/pseuds/wunderxfunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm posting all of my drabble as chapters in one work. They all take place in different time periods (from early to present to future Klaine), but I wanted to keep them together in one place.</p><p>I'll give warnings in the summaries for each chapter, including ones that contain s6 spoilers, so anyone who's concerned should look those over before they begin. Happy reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 Prompt: "Ache"  
> Kurt makes another Thanksgiving phone call to Blaine, two years after the first.  
> Warnings: CONTAINS SEASON 6 SPOILERS, mention of Karofsky, mention of Finn

Kurt sits between his father and Rachel at a table that has one-seat-too-many at it. He can’t help but notice each time Rachel drops out of the conversation, pausing to stare at the empty chair while their parents keep talking.

Over two years, and the feeling hasn’t subsided at all. He knows it. They all know it, but everyone except Rachel seems able to pretend.

Whenever there’s a break in conversation, Kurt can hear it, though. The pretense lifts, and he can sense that there’s a dark undercurrent to the celebratory mood from all sides. He feels strangled by it, and pours yet another glass of wine for himself.

Dinner ends before six, and there’s a graveyard of empty bottles—Kurt’s pretty sure that he’s responsible for at least one and a half of them, though he didn’t bother keeping count.

Later, after Rachel excuses herself early for bed and the others have sat down to watch football, Kurt gets up from the couch, dizzy and still slightly drunk, and makes his way to the sliding back door.

It’s freezing outside. Light is pouring from the house behind him and casting shadows that stretch to menacing lengths, reminding Kurt of old German fairytales. He sits down on one of the chairs that have not yet been packed away for winter, letting his buzz flow through him. The stifling aura he’s been sensing all afternoon lets up a little, though there’s still a nagging feeling in Kurt’s chest. He knows it’s a combination of things—all the little pieces that are absent, and the way that the holiday tries to masquerade the fact that  _something_  is wrong. Something is missing.

Kurt is barely in control of himself when he pulls out his phone. He begins dialing a number that has long since been deleted—an attempt to cut himself off on nights exactly like this. But his fingers still know the number by heart, and he holds the phone to his ear and waits as it rings.

Part of him hopes Blaine won’t answer. That he’ll be too busy being enjoying the holiday. That his phone will be off, and he won’t be half-expecting the call. Kurt has tried to be anything but icy in Blaine’s presence in the few times they’ve seen each other, but it’s deliberately (on his own part) been weeks since they’ve spoken. He finds that he can barely manage words half of the time, much less pleasantries.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice is already soft and comforting, and the realization jolts Kurt out of his drunken mist of thought.

“This is pathetic,” Kurt says immediately.

There’s a shaky sound on the other end, and Kurt recognizes it as quiet laughter. “I promise. It’s fine,” Blaine says, so compassionate that it almost convinces Kurt.  _“_ What’s up?”

“I—“ Kurt toys with the hem of his vest. “I keep thinking about how much I wish he was here.”

“Did you talk to Rachel?”

“No. I should, but… I can’t. I don’t think she can handle talking about it right now.”

“She’s probably going through a lot,” Blaine says. Kurt can picture his expression of unwavering sympathy. It makes him feel homesick.

“Do you think it’s ever going to stop hurting?”

“Probably not,” Blaine says. “Maybe a little. Someday.”

“It just doesn’t feel like there’s anything to be thankful for.”

“I can see how optimism doesn’t seem like an option right now…” Kurt hears a voice in the background on Blaine’s end.

“Are you at your parents’ house?”

“Yeah. We just finished eating. Cooper is telling some story about a commercial he was in.”

“Commercial?”

“Teeth whitening. It’s stupid.”

“Oh…”

“Look, I’m really sorry that you’re upset.”

“Please don’t apologize to me, B,” Kurt responds gently.

There’s a silence. Just before Kurt’s about to check whether they were disconnected, Blaine speaks up again. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“What do you think?” The sarcasm is barely there, and it almost sounds like Kurt is genuinely asking. “We aren’t even speaking.”

“I’m talking to you right now, Kurt.”

“Yes, but only because I’m drunk dialing you on Thanksgiving and you’re too nice to ignore it,” Kurt retorts, frustrated by his own bitterness.

“I care about you,” Blaine responds. In Kurt’s ear, his voice is defensive, maybe even hurt.

“Then why aren’t you here?” Kurt feels guilty for attacking Blaine with the question, but it slips out of him anyway, an uncontrollable force that’s been boiling beneath the surface of his skin for months. Since he’d returned to Lima and had seen Blaine with Dave, looking  _happy_ , of all things. Since he realized it was his own entire fault.

“You know that’s not fair.”

Kurt  _does_ know that he’s being unfair. He hates that he knows.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says weakly. “For everything. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Blaine says. “But—“

“But it doesn’t change anything.”

Another pause.

“Is Dave there with you?” Kurt asks, unsure that he wants to hear the answer.

“Um.” Blaine exhales, causing a crackling over the phone. “Yeah. He’s here.”

Even though Kurt expected it, it  _stings_.

“I should probably get some sleep,” he says, finally.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I think so.”

“Drink lots of water and…” Blaine trails off.

“I’ll be okay. I… I hope you have a good night.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I love you,” Kurt says, almost like it’s a reflex.

There’s a second where Blaine hesitates. “You too.”

Kurt closes his eyes, wondering if he can pretend just for a moment that everything is different. If perhaps doing so will make his chest stop hurting. “Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for answering.”

“Anytime, Kurt. I mean it.”

That’s it, and when Kurt hangs up, he lets his hand hover in the air. There’s snow coming down now, barely visible, but the glow from the window behind Kurt casts a fiery color onto the tiny flakes.

He sits for a while, thinking about the fairytales again. He remembers hearing once that many of the original tales did not have happy endings at all—that the tragedy of them had been twisted into happy stories for children, and the real endings were much darker. That the real endings did not have a neat lesson. That they were just as messy as life.

Perhaps knowing this, Kurt thinks, is what it means to grow up.


	2. Precarious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 Prompt: "Balance"  
> Set sometime soon after 5x20. After Blaine moves in, Kurt tries to establish an equilibrium in their relationship.  
> No warnings, only fluff :)

“Kurt?”

Blaine enters the apartment clutching the small stack of mail between his teeth, arms full of grocery bags. He sets down everything on the table and looks around at the empty kitchen and living room, trying to remember if his fiancé had mentioned picking up a shift at the diner.

On his way home from class, Blaine had stopped by the bakery on the corner and picked up Kurt’s favorite low-calorie cheesecake—an apology for the semi-argument they’d had that morning when Blaine had accidentally turned off the alarm clock, causing Kurt to be late for his morning dance rehearsal. He’d watched Kurt rush through his morning routine, tugging on a winter scarf and gloves, barely turning his head when Blaine kissed him goodbye with a soft,  _“I’m sorry.”_

Looking around, Blaine worries for a second that Kurt’s absence has something to do with the fight. Since moving back in, there are moments when everything seems precarious to Blaine. That it’s still possible things might fall apart.

But then he hears Kurt’s voice from the bedroom. “I’m in here!”

 

Blaine considers putting the groceries away first, but instead he follows the sound to their bedroom and pulls back the curtain. Kurt is sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, his laptop closed beside him. There‘s a single candle burning on the nightstand, making everything smell like spiced pine. But what draws Blaine’s attention the most is Kurt’s expectant gaze, the way he’s clutching his bare ankles close to him, somehow looking elegant in the black and grey loungewear he only puts on when he’s home for the night with Blaine.

“I brought you something,” Blaine offers, still attempting to discern the mood in the room, whether or not Kurt is still annoyed with him.

“Could you sit for a second?” Kurt asks. Blaine’s heart skips a beat at the gentle tone of it, remembering all the times that Kurt has spoken to him in that voice after a fight.

He hesitantly takes a seat at the foot of the bed, leaving just enough distance between them.

“Come closer,” Kurt says, and reaches out a hand. Blaine takes it, genuinely unsure what is about to transpire. Kurt squeezes his hand and pulls him nearer until their knees are almost touching.

“Is something wrong?” Blaine can’t help but ask, given the nervous lump in his throat.

“No, sweetheart,” Kurt says. “I’ve just been thinking, and …”

There’s a small silence. Blaine’s mind is already trying to fill in the gap, but he’s clueless. He pictures follow-ups to the start of Kurt’s sentence:  _I think Rachel’s show is going to flop. We really need to switch our brand of laundry detergent. It’s not working out, having you live here again._ Blaine swallows. He hopes it’s not that.

“I’m worried that I haven’t been completely fair to you,” Kurt finishes.

Blaine cocks his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“This whole engagement thing.” Kurt makes a vague gesture with his free hand. “I mean, sometimes I get the feeling that I come off as… not being as enthusiastic about it. You know that’s not true right?”

“Of  _course_  I know that, Kurt,” Blaine assures. Though in the deepest pit of himself, he feels a twinge of relief at Kurt’s words.  _Precarious._

“I just…” Kurt purses his lips in thought, and then carefully continues. “I want you to know that I am one-hundred percent involved. I don’t want you to think that it’s your idea, and that I’m just tagging along for the ride because it’s comfortable.”

“No, I get—“

“Wait,” Kurt interrupts. “Just… I think that there’s something I haven’t done. Something that’s made things unbalanced.”

Before Blaine can process what’s happening, Kurt is drifting away to grab something out of their drawer. When he returns, he’s clutching a small box, and Blaine is speechless. He had  _definitely_ not expected that.

“I hope you know how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s one of the most important decisions I’ve ever made, and even if I’ve had my doubts, I have never trusted anything more than how much I love you. I _want_  this.” Kurt is looking at him now, blue eyes shining-but-sure, and Blaine can feel that he himself is on the verge of tears.

“Blaine Anderson,” Kurt asks. “Would you marry me?”

Blaine laughs, though it sounds a bit like a sob, and he’s immediately lunging forward to catch Kurt in a kiss, nearly knocking the ring out of his hand. “Yes,” he says against Kurt’s lips, grazing his fiance’s teeth with his own. Blaine is still laughing when he pulls back to flash Kurt a look of wonder. “I can’t believe you even had to  _ask_ me that.”

Kurt’s face looks slightly flushed, though he shrugs with false nonchalance. “Yeah, well…” He swipes the cuff of his sleeve beneath his right eye. “It wasn’t quite as over-the-top as yours, but I figured it was my turn.”

“You think my proposal was over-the-top?”

“It had  _choreography_ , Blaine.”

Blaine pretends to pout. “I thought you would like that.”

“I did,” Kurt replies. “But I think I would have said yes either way.”

“I guess using Riverdance to talk you into getting a dog is unnecessary then.”

“A dog? Here?” Kurt raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You can Michael Flatley around the entire apartment and I don’t think it’s going to help your case, babe.”

“Mmm,” Blaine hums, leaning close enough to press their foreheads together. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Speaking of surprises… you mentioned that you brought something home when you came in…”

Blaine sighs, though it’s more out of happiness than anything else. “I’ll go get the plates.”


	3. All Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 Prompt: "Cloud"  
> "Original Song" drabble, from Blaine's POV  
> No warnings/spoilers

Blaine had always expected love to be more like a lighting strike. Something that would buzz through him, instantaneous, and he’d be energized and jolted into action. Maybe it was the romantic side of him, but Blaine believed in love at first sight. He would know it when he felt it.

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise._

In a matter of seconds, he realized he was wrong. Blaine lifted his eyes from the polished wood floor and set them upon his closest friend. Across the room, Kurt was singing, eyes averted and teary. His pale face stood out in contrast with his black clothes, painfully sincere, bathed in light that poured in from the window. Beautiful.

Blaine blinked, and then proceeded to stare, transfixed as those around him sang, completely unaware of the fundamental shift that had just occurred within him. Kurt wasn’t even looking at him, but Blaine suddenly  _knew._

He loved Kurt.  It had been there, always.

The staircase, curled iron and wood, winding its way downward to the sight of a boy looking lost. Every time they sat side-by-side, every time he’d laughed at some ridiculous story about New Directions. Every time he’d heard Kurt sing. Every time Blaine had been alone, sharing silence with his friend. It had been there, unwavering in the air between them. It wasn’t miraculous, but inevitable.

And yet, it had been hidden. Now, like a storm clearing, Blaine could not comprehend how he had not seen it winking out from behind the clouds. It was magnificent—warm and breathtaking. Kurt had been a source of light in Blaine’s life before he’d even been aware how dark everything was.

And Kurt had no idea what Blaine could see. Kurt had no idea how utterly beautiful he was in that moment. How much time had Blaine wasted? How many moments could he have used—telling Kurt, loving him, making him realize that he was the most extraordinary person in the world?

How long had Blaine waited for this?

The song came to an end, and Blaine still could not look away. Because this was it. This was what had been missing in every hole he felt inside himself, every time the world seemed too heavy and gray. This was the thing that he’d been searching for forever.

_Oh. There you are. There you’ve been._


	4. à la mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 Prompt: "Dessert"  
> Kurt and Blaine get caught in an embarrassing situation. Told from Santana's POV.  
> Warnings: language, implied foodplay, terrible puns

“ _OhmygodRachelclosethedoor!_ ”

Rachel comes storming out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open in her wake. “So  _that_ is where all my coconut whipped cream has been disappearing to. I can’t  _believe_  you two!”

Her palm is shielding her eyes, and she almost runs into the table.

As Blaine stumbles out after, towel wrapped around his waist, Santana begins snickering on the couch. This is the best entertainment she’s had all week. She sets down the magazine she’s flipping through, not wanting to split her attention between sex tips and  _this_ new development.

 “ _Whipped cream?”_ she asks loudly. “Hummel, you popped the dwarf prince’s cherry  _years_ ago. You can’t even make a good sundae anymore. Why bother with the toppings?”

Kurt sticks his head out of the doorway, glaring back and forth between the girls. “You two aren’t supposed to be home.” He points a finger at Santana. “ _You_  don’t even live here.”

“I thought you gave up eating sweets,” she continues teasing, delighted when the comment makes Kurt flush a violent red.

Blaine’s still standing awkwardly, practically naked and looking like he’s been caught stealing cookies before dinner. It’s downright hilarious. He hesitantly places a hand on Rachel’s shoulder, where she’s now leaning against the table and pawing at her face with one hand as if she’s been blinded.

“I’m really sorry about your whipped cream, Rachel,” he says sheepishly. “I’ll buy you some more.”

“Honey,” Kurt says. “I don’t think that’s what she’s most upset about right now.”

“I’m just gonna…” Blaine gestures towards Kurt’s bedroom. “Get some clothes on.”

Santana watches him retreat behind the curtain, and then she throws an accusing glare at Kurt. “Why the hell did you wait until I moved out to get all kinky? When I lived here, it was practically a knitting circle with the two of you. I was  _dying_ for something interesting to happen, besides Rachel’s fiasco with Gigolo Ken Doll.”

“We’re not  _kinky._ ”

“I can  _only_ assume that one of you covered your dick in that shit.”

“Just because we’re not…  _vanilla_ … doesn’t mean we’re  _kinky._ ”

“Nope. Not vanilla at all. You’re actually coconut, from the looks of it—“

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Rachel snaps. “I’m trying to erase a mental picture at the moment.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, though his blush still hasn’t faded, and disappears back into the bathroom without a word. Sensing that the excitement is over, Santana returns her focus to the Cosmo on the coffee table.

That is, until Rachel opens up the refrigerator and shouts. “The chocolate syrup too? Boys!”

“Wanky, I tell you,” Santana mutters to herself, and she turns the page.


	5. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 Prompt: "Evening"  
> A future!Klaine fic where Kurt and Blaine are parents, and it's date night.  
> No warnings

_[5:47 p.m.] When do you want me to come over tonight?_

_[5:48 p.m.] 7 should be fine._

_[5:49 p.m.] Thank you for doing this, Rachel. I can’t remember the last time we had a Friday night out._

_[5:52 p.m.] It’s my pleasure! What are godmothers for?_

_[5:53 p.m.] I know. But still. Thank you._

_[5:55 p.m.] No problem. ;) You can pay me back by coming to see me on opening night._

_[5:57 p.m.] Wouldn’t miss it for the world._

_—_

Kurt opens the door to the apartment at 6:45, and is greeted by the buttery smell of popcorn. He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on a hook beside Blaine’s. Down the hall, he can hear the television playing quietly in the living room. Kurt follows the sound, recognizing a song from  _Cinderella_ as he approaches.

Blaine is sitting on the couch, arm draped over the back of it. Their four-year-old, Olivia, is curled up with her head in his lap. “Great, you’re here,” Blaine greets him, obviously relieved.

“Sweetie, what are you doing? You can’t wear  _jeans_ to the restaurant.”

“She fell asleep.” Blaine glances down helplessly at the head of dark curls resting on his thighs.

“So wake her up,” Kurt hisses.

“I tried. An hour ago,” Blaine says. “She kept making these little noises—you should have heard them, they were so cute.” He frowns. “I couldn’t do it, Kurt.”

Exasperated, Kurt rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Which is Marc Jacobs. Because Kurt, unlike Blaine, has been dressed all day long, ready to spend the evening at a five star restaurant with his  _husband_ of four years, whom he barely gets to touch anymore because of their busy schedules.

“Help me lift her,” he says, and Blaine sits up straighter to accommodate. Kurt gets one hand below Olivia’s shoulders before she stiffens and turns herself closer to Blaine, burying her face in his shirt. She emits a small, heartbreaking whimper. Kurt can just barely see the corner of her tiny mouth curling downwards, and he immediately stops moving.

“See?” Blaine sounds smug, and Kurt pulls his hands away.

“Okay, it’s pretty cute,” he admits. “But we only have fifteen minutes before Rachel gets here.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine whines.

“It’s been  _weeks_ ,” Kurt whines right back. “We’re going. You need to go get r—“

Olivia stirs, and his voice cuts off instantaneously. She lifts her head, and reaches up a hand to rub sleep from her eyes. “Papa, is that you?”  She twists around, and her clear blue gaze lands on Kurt.

Kurt can practically  _feel_ his resolve melting off of him into a puddle of pathetic mush and yet another weekend of almost-guaranteed celibacy. “Yeah, baby. I’m here,” he says gently.

“Come watch the movie with us,” Olivia pleads, her voice still a little raspy. “Daddy was singing along. You can too.”

Kurt’s shoulders fall completely, and looking at his daughter he can’t even bring himself to be disappointed. “Just one sec. I’m going to go change and call Rachel.”

“Don’t forget to cancel the reservation,” Blaine reminds him as he retreats.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

—

At 7:30, the credits of the movie are rolling, and Olivia is once again sound asleep. This time, she’s nestled into Kurt’s side with a blanket pulled over her. Blaine is yawning beside her. Kurt wants to make a teasing remark about how tired his husband looks despite the early hour, but then he feels his own sleepiness weighing at his eyelids, and he reconsiders.

“Are you bored?” Kurt asks, wondering out loud.

Blaine turns his head towards Kurt, dark eyebrows cinched together in confusion. “Do you want me to put in another movie?”

“No,” Kurt says. “No, I mean… with us?”

The question takes a second to register, and then Blaine’s confusion only seems to deepen. He moves closer, keeping his eyes fixed on Kurt, and there’s a hint of worry in them.

“Kurt, why do you think I’d be bored?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says. He leans back and looks the ceiling, letting out a long breath. “We never  _do_ anything anymore. At least when Olivia was a baby, we still had nights out, but now…. Am I a terrible father because I miss that?”

Blaine smiles and shakes his head. “You’re not a terrible father, Kurt. I miss that too, but…”

 He slides further inwards, slow enough so as not to disturb Olivia. He reaches out, and Kurt lifts his hand to let Blaine lace their fingers together. The contact of skin is a feeling of pure warmth and genuine love—Kurt forgets that sometimes in the bustle of everyday life, but he remembers it now. Blaine looks at him, and in the dim lamplight his eyes are like glazed amber.

“I could never be bored with you, Kurt. Every day is amazing and new and…” Blaine heaves a sigh. “I love my family  _so_ much. I’ve wanted this forever and now I have it. Do you understand how lucky I feel? That sort of thing doesn’t happen for everyone.”

“I understand,” Kurt responds. He really does.

There’s a dubious silence, and then a look flashes across Blaine’s face. At first, Kurt can’t place what it means with one hundred percent accuracy, but then Blaine glances at the clock. “It’s only seven-thirty.”

Kurt’s eyes follow. “That it is.”

“It’s Friday.”

“I knew I married a smart one.”

“And Olivia’s no longer sleeping on either of our laps.”

It’s true. Kurt looks down at his daughter leaning against him, hands tucked under her own chin as if in prayer. He’s sure that if he moved carefully enough she wouldn’t wake up. He considers replacing himself with a pillow, and letting her fall deeper into sleep alone while he and Blaine retreat to their bedroom.

 “Do you think we could wait just a little while longer?” he asks sheepishly.

Blaine grins, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. He drifts back into his seat, eyes landing on Olivia. His suggestive expression immediately softens into one of pure affection.

“Yeah. We can wait.”


	6. Find Your Footing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combination of Day 6 Prompt: "Fall" and Day 7 Prompt: "Grace" (since I missed one. whoops.)  
> When he first transfers to Dalton, Kurt has some trouble regaining with confidence, particularly in the presence of Blaine.  
> No warnings

Kurt has never considered himself an awkward person. He stands out in a crowd, sure, but it’s usually premeditated. Not because he’s making a bumbling idiot of himself. He’s always pitied those types of people—the ones who can never seem to master the grace of social interaction.

When Kurt transfers to Dalton, this changes.

He knows  _why_ , of course. For the first time, Kurt actually has a crush on a boy who has the slightest chance of liking him back. Of course, Blaine has never shown any  _actual_ interest, but he never hesitates to invite Kurt along to outings with friends. In the hallway, it’s always Blaine who approaches with a friendly smile. It’s always Blaine who proposes dinner and a movie, or trips to the revival theater. Whether or not it’s just friends, Blaine is interested in Kurt in a way that goes beyond acquaintances.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to bode well for Kurt’s social abilities.

He first realizes this when he’s walking with Blaine to European history. The other boy is chuckling as he recounts the story of Wes’s terrible first date with his now-girlfriend. Kurt is consciously making every effort to pay attention, to look entertained. He nods and smiles at all the appropriate times, and makes eye contact, just like it says to in Cosmo (yes, it’s a terribly trashy authority on the matter of romance, but Kurt’s not taking any chances with this).

As they approach the narrow doorway, Kurt miscalculates and attempts to slide in beside Blaine without disrupting their conversation. He painfully catches his shoulder on the door frame, and his entire bag slips off of his arm and onto the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Kurt bites back a curse.

Blaine turns around, surprised concern filling his eyes. “Oh my god, Kurt. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kurt responds in a high voice as he bends down to pick up his things. He’s still wincing at the ache in his shoulder, and there’s a small line of people behind them waiting to enter.

“Let me help you,” Blaine says. Ever-the-gentleman he gets down on one knee to assist, until everything is safely replaced in Kurt’s bag, and all that’s left untucked away is Kurt’s overwhelming feeling of embarrassment.

After that, Kurt becomes more aware of his tendency to trip or run into things. It’s as if his desire to come off as cool and collected pulls so much focus that even Kurt’s feet become distracted. They kind of start doing their own thing. This wouldn’t be so mortifying if it didn’t  _always_ happen around Blaine.

_God, he must think I’m an imbecile._

Even worse, it’s not just his legs. At one point, all the Warblers are eating together in the commons, and Blaine finishes the punchline to a not-particularly-funny joke. Kurt makes an extra effort to laugh, wanting to be friendly even if it wasn’t hilarious, and winds up choking on a sip of his coffee. He breaks into a fit of coughing so forceful that conversation stops entirely, everyone’s attention on him, and Nick and Jeff slap him on the back to make sure he’s alright. By the time he stops, Kurt is red-faced and mortified, and he can’t bear to look Blaine in the eye for the rest of lunch.

As they’re exiting, though, Blaine bumps shoulders with him and  _winks_ , of all things. “Don’t choke on anything during classes, okay? Our study date tonight will probably go better if you’re still alive.”

Kurt feels the blush that he’s finally managed to get rid of reappear. “I’ll try my best,” he jokes weakly, and they walk off in opposite directions.

Then there’s the time that Blaine’s Prius won’t start.

“You probably have more experience with cars than me,” he tells Kurt. “Would you mind taking a look?” Flirting may not be Kurt’s strong suit, but cars he can do _._

In the parking lot, he has Blaine try to start the engine while he watches, and he almost immediately can tell it’s the alternator. “Open the hood,” he instructs, even though he knows he can’t fix it by himself. It just isn’t often that Kurt gets to play the prince instead the damsel in distress. Cockily he wants to draw the situation out.

When Blaine does, Kurt lifts the heavy piece of metal and slides the support rod into place while he surveys the engine. Apparently, he doesn’t do this well enough, because when he lets go it slides back downwards and the hood falls enough to knock him in the forehead.

“Shit!” He pulls back as the whole things slams down, and hears the driver side door open.

“Jesus, Kurt. Are you okay?” Blaine is immediately by his side, wearing his usual worried look, his thick handsome eyebrows knit together and his shining eyes fixed on Kurt.

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, rubbing the sore spot on his head, wishing that Blaine didn’t have to be so nice that it made it seem pitying. “It’s the alternator,” he says dejectedly. “You’ll probably need to tow it to a shop.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Blaine responds. “I figured it was something like that, but… are you sure you’re alright? How’s your head? I’m so sorry. I should have gotten out to help you—”

Kurt shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. I just wasn’t being careful.”

“Here, let me get me go get you some ice.” Blaine’s already ushering him back towards the school, a gentle hand on the small of his back that makes him feel warmer than usual.

Kurt opens his mouth to say no, but then another sharp pang from the bump on his head makes him wince. “That might be nice, actually.”

“Okay.” Blaine nods immediately. “Go lay down and I’ll meet you in your dorm room in just a minute.”

Later in Kurt’s room, Blaine babbles on about how sorry he is and how nice it was for Kurt to help.  He continually asks questions about the pain, and worries aloud about concussions. And, okay, if Kurt has to be mortified, it’s nice at least to have a cute boy hovering by his side, continually touching him.

Still, he wishes things would have gone a lot smoother.

After a month, it barely gets better. Despite having left McKinley to avoid bullying, Kurt finds that he’s still constantly covered in bruises and scratches, except these ones are inflicted by his own clumsiness. He’s almost given up on any hopes of regaining his normal composure, resigned to a life of fumbling modesty. He’ll probably never have his own syndicated talk show, now that he knows he can’t make it through nerve-wracking interactions, but he can live with that.

“The girl who plays Maria is phenomenal,” Blaine gushes as they walk towards the parking lot. “I worked with her over the summer at Six Flags.”

They’re on their way to see a community production of  _The Sound of Music_ in Columbus. Kurt has been looking forward to it all week, after the last round of exams made his head spin. It’s a new experience for him, actually being  _challenged_ by high school coursework.

 “I’m sure I’m going to love it,” he replies with a smile, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Well, as long as they accurately casted the kids. It’s so  _creepy_ to watch thirty-year-olds singing and dancing to Sixteen Going on Seventeen.”

“Oh, definitely,” Blaine agrees, huffing a laugh. “My old high school did a production, and the girl they had playing Gretl was almost as tall as the Captain. Very weird.”

When they step down from the curb onto the black asphalt, Kurt immediately slips and loses his balance. Blaine is quick to grab his shoulders and right him.

“Careful, it’s icy,” he says. There’s a brief second where his hand lingers on Kurt, and his eyes flick down to it. He’s turned so that he’s facing Kurt, with less than a foot of space between them, and Kurt can feel Blaine’s breath against the collar of his shirt.

“Thanks,” Kurt offers softly.

Blaine is still looking at his own hand, and he seems surprised. Kurt wonders why, considering that it isn’t exactly the first time his own clumsiness has interrupted their conversations.

“You… um… have really nice arms,” Blaine says, sort of distantly. He’s not looking Kurt in the eye.

Kurt is taken aback, lips parted at the unexpected compliment. Blaine has said nice things about his clothes before, but he’s never mentioned his  _body_ in any way. It seems absurd, yet at the same time it gives Kurt a swooping feeling in his stomach.

“Oh,” he says. “Thank you?”

The lilt of Kurt’s voice seems to snap Blaine out of it, and he hurriedly pulls back, finally looking up at Kurt. “I—you’re welcome,” he says awkwardly. “So… “

“ _The Sound of Music_ ,” Kurt mercifully interjects, and Blaine nods. They continue to walk, and all the while Kurt mulls over the strange moment.

Maybe it was nothing—just a lapse in their usual friendship. But after that day Kurt notices that he’s a lot more graceful around Blaine. He chalks it up to a glimmer of hope, or at least a newfound confidence. Whatever it is, Kurt spends a lot less time making a fool of himself, and he finds that he’s a whole lot calmer all of the time because of it. Even more, he feels oddly more comfortable being around Blaine. Being friends.

Best of all, months later, when they are newly dating and walking to class holding hands, Blaine stumbles. This time it’s Kurt who gets to reach out and catch him, to keep Blaine from falling. It’s Kurt who receives a grateful look and a soft kiss. It’s Kurt who, one year later, gets to hold Blaine as they’re in bed together for the first time, nervous and trembling in his arms, and whisper that it’s okay.

It’s all just a matter of finding his footing.


	7. Playing House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 Prompt: "Harmony"  
> Yet more early!Klaine drabble.  
> No warnings. Only gushy feelings.

The first time Kurt and Blaine have a house to themselves, they’ve only been dating a month, and Blaine’s parents are out-of-town visiting his aunt. They get home from school and spend a good twenty minutes sharing slow kisses on the couch, until Kurt’s stomach makes a sound that’s not unlike a melancholy whale song and he begins laughing.

“Maybe dinner first,” he suggests.

So they cook together in Blaine’s giant kitchen. Kurt manages to make an impressive carbonara, considering there are so few groceries in the house. Blaine settles on making the salad, helping when he can. They seem to dance around one another, with small touches to each other’s hips and arms as they pass back and forth.

“This is great,” Blaine says out loud, as Kurt stirs sauce on the stove.

“Hmm?”

“Our rhythm,” Blaine replies, glancing over at Kurt and chuckling at the smear of cream on his lip from where he’d been tasting. He sets down the tongs in his hand and walks over, reaching out with no hesitance whatsoever to swipe at the spot with his thumb. “You’ve got something there.”

Kurt darts out his tongue in a way that’s positively adorable. “Is it gone?” he asks.

“Yeah, I got it.” Blaine settles back on his feet and smiles.

“So, you were saying,” Kurt says. “Something about rhythm?”

“Oh. It’s just…” Blaine searches for an explanation. “I don’t know. We _click_.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

“But, like we’ve been doing this forever,” Blaine goes on, still unsure of how to word what he’s feeling. It’s definitely too early to mention that it feels like they’re married, and that the thought makes Blaine’s heart flutter. “It’s—I like it.”

Kurt’s reply is a soft grin, the kind that makes his face relax. “Me too,” he says simply, and he leans forward to catch Blaine in a gentle kiss that tastes like chives.

After dinner, they turn on music and slow dance in the extra space in the living room. There aren’t so many words between them, but Kurt rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder when he begins to sing along quietly. He can’t still can’t quite place it—the peace he feels inside. Perhaps it’s the fading of light outside, or the way that they move gracefully together. He knows that Kurt can’t stay there all night, but he wants more than anything to make it last. So Blaine holds Kurt even tighter, slows his movement from foot-to-foot and just lets himself _feel_ —the swaying music, the light, the peace, the rhythm.

The harmony.


	8. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 Prompt: "Imprint"  
> Set sometime in s3. Burt notices some strange marks on Kurt. Might’ve had something to do with Blaine (it did).  
> No Warnings. No Spoilers.

“What’s that?”

Kurt is standing on his tiptoes, attempting to get the salad bowl from the highest shelf in the cupboard, when his father’s voice beside him surprises him and makes him falter. He nearly drops the damn thing—not that it would be such a shame, since the dishware his grandmother sends them every Christmas is hideous. Still, he shoots his dad a half-spirited  _what-the-hell_ look.

“Sorry, kiddo. I was just wondering how you managed to get a burn on your hip.” Burt chuckles, clearly unaffected by his annoyance. He points to where Kurt’s shirt had been riding up while he’d been reaching upwards. “Are those skinny jeans of yours chafing you? You’re not getting bullied again, are you?”

“Burn? What—“ Kurt trails off, suddenly knowing exactly what mark his father is talking about, and hoping that the conversation ceases immediately.

“Yeah, it looks like a burn or a bruise or something.”

“It’s nothing,” Kurt says, too quickly. And shit, now Burt’s suspicious. He sidles even closer, and Kurt can only look away, at the cucumbers he’s been peeling in the sink.

“Kurt, what are you blushing abo—“ He makes the connection halfway through the sentence, and appears to suddenly be just as uncomfortable as Kurt feels. “Yup, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

As Burt retreats from the kitchen, he shakes his head as if trying to dislodge something. Kurt tries his best not to feel mortified, though it doesn’t quite work.

***

That night, Blaine is getting ready in his bedroom when he gets a text from Kurt.

**[From: Kurt]** _So apparently discrete placement does not make hickeys any less embarrassing._

**[To: Kurt]** _Oh god. I’m sorry. Please tell me it was Rachel._

**[From: Kurt]** _Definitely my dad._

**[To: Kurt]** _Jesus. Please tell me you’re kidding._

**[To: Kurt]** _Am I uninvited to dinner?_

**[From: Kurt]** _On the contrary, you are now invited to dinner AND a nice lengthy conversation about the “rules of the house”._

**[From: Kurt]** _So…_   _I’ll still see you at six then? :D (Please remember that I love you)_

**[From: Kurt]** _Also, that I’m willing to return the whole hickey-related favor the next time we’re alone together. If my dad doesn’t see to it that never happens again…_

**[To: Kurt]** _If he kills me, you’re responsible for the funeral._

**[From: Kurt]** _I am an excellent event planner._

**[To: Kurt]** _Good to know._

**[From: Kurt]**   _Have I mentioned you’re my favorite?_

**[To: Kurt]** _If I survive, I am holding you to that “favor”, though._

**[From: Kurt]** _My pleasure. ;) See you soon!_


	9. What's New Pussycat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 Prompt: "Jukebox"  
> Just some very goofy, hastily-written drabble inspired by my favorite John Mulaney joke.  
> No spoilers. No warnings.

Working at the Spotlight Diner had taken a downturn. Sure, it was fun in the beginning, when all of Kurt’s friends had been there with him. Counting tips at the end of the night had seemed a lot less depressing. Singing on the job was actually kind of fun. But Rachel had fluttered off to L.A. to pursue her secret television dreams (who knew?), and Santana was god-knows-where touring with Mercedes.

Kurt wasn’t even sure what happened to Dani. She kind of just disappeared after the whole roller derby thing. It was pretty weird, to be honest.

So now he was the only one left, working a silly job to make rent, and it most certainly was _not_ fun. Worst of all, Blaine had been out of town for a week and a half, and he’d picked up extra shifts just to escape from the stifling emptiness of their apartment. Even relaxation was gloomy.

But tonight was particularly worse than usual, thanks to the silly antics of a famous comedian and a new fad prank to play in restaurants that owned a jukebox.

Kurt closed his eyes, praying that the culprit had finally run out of spare change. But then… the music began and…

_“What’s new pussycat? Whooa, whoa, whoa…”_

“That’s it, I’m unplugging it.”

Gunther stuck his head out of the kitchen door. “I heard that, Kurt. You’re not allowed. Someone paid good money to hear that song.”

“It’s the _fourth time in a row_.” Kurt was fuming, already six hours into his shift and at his wit’s end. “It’s just a stupid prank!”

“You touch that jukebox and you’re fired.” Gunther pointed a warning finger at him. “Also, someone requested you at table ten. So _smile_ and get your butt over there.”

Kurt pressed his lips together. “Fine.”

He set down the tray of sugar packets he’d been organizing. Kurt had an inkling as to who had made the request— for months now, there had been some creep in a trench coat that came in now and again, and always specifically asked for Kurt as his waiter. Kurt, of course, had no idea who the guy was. He kind of hoped he’d never find out.

Kurt wondered if he’d have to sing “Moon River” for the man again. At least he’d have an excuse to turn off the music.

Halfway to the table, Kurt looked up from the notepad in his hand and stopped short. Seated alone at the table, looking dapper as ever, was Blaine. Blaine, who wasn’t due back home for another week. Blaine, whom Kurt had missed so much that he sometimes turned on Moulin Rouge at night and imagined that he was watching along beside him, reciting the lines of their favorite parts. Kurt tried his best to be casual, but he was practically skipping the rest of the way.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a surprise!” Blaine had already spotted Kurt and was grinning. _God,_ Kurt had missed that grin. “Cooper sprained his ankle on the slopes. Our trip was cut short.”

“That’s unfortunate, but I’m so happy to see you!” Kurt peeked over his shoulder. “I really want to hug you, but I’m kind of on Gunther’s radar at the moment.”

“Rough day?”

“Do you have ears? This song has been playing for at least fifteen minutes.”

Blaine laughed. He glanced at the jukebox a few feet from his table. “Uh, yeah. About that… I was kind of trying to get your attention.”

Kurt paused, and then he slapped Blaine on the shoulder with his notepad, manager be damned. “You could have just _texted_ me or something, instead of making me listen to _this_.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine held up his hands in defense, still laughing. “I thought it was funny.”

“How many more plays?”

“This is the last one…” Blaine trailed off guiltily, though his smile hadn’t completely disappeared. “Then _maybe_ one _It’s Not Unusual_. But I swear that’s it.”

Kurt sighed. “When I get home in an hour, I’m going to properly welcome you back. And then I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He was smiling again. “Tom Jones. What a way to go.”

“We’ll see about that.”

But Kurt was smiling too. Sixty more minutes. Technically, fifty-seven. And then Blaine was all his.

Perhaps Rachel and Santana being going had its perks after all.


	10. As It Always Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 Prompt: "Kindred"  
> Five times over the years when Blaine can tell what Kurt is thinking, and one time when he’s taken by surprise.  
> Warnings: SEASON 6 SPOILERS, adult content   
> (Also note that the time labels are from Blaine’s perspective)

**1.** **Junior Year—April**

The first time they tried, it had been Blaine. While the entire thing had been clumsy, filled with nervous, expectant laughter and blushes, Blaine had loved every second. After feeling like they’d spent the past year learning everything about each other, having Kurt inside of him was something new that he could share—a new way that Blaine could love. To let somebody in that way, to let them see the most vulnerable side of you. Blaine soaked up the feeling. He had never loved in a way that was so complete.

Now, Blaine is hovering above Kurt, his hips framed by Kurt’s bent legs. There’s barely any light in his bedroom, but he can just make out Kurt’s face—it’s that same first-time nervousness, echoed all over again.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I want to try. Please.” Kurt’s voice is determined, almost impatient, but Blaine thinks he can see past it. So he moves slowly as he pulls away to get things ready, keeping a comforting hand on Kurt’s side the entire time.

Before he does anything, Blaine leans down to kiss Kurt, and feels a grateful sigh against his lips. He slips his fingers down, past their stomachs and between Kurt’s legs. He takes his time teasing, letting gravity press their bodies together when Kurt gasps.

But when Blaine presses one finger in, he can feel Kurt tense up. He gives him a few seconds to relax before he goes any further, but it doesn’t seem to help. Kurt’s eyes are closed, chin tilted upwards exposing his neck, but his mouth is a thin line of discomfort—perhaps even pain. Blaine stops moving, because he can tell that Kurt is forcing himself to do this. He knows that the first time is a weird, alien feeling, but it’s something more for Kurt. There’s a reason that they haven’t done this before, and Blaine is terrified of breaching it.

“Are you—“ Kurt’s eyes flutter open and he looks down at Blaine. The tinge of redness on his cheeks is nearly grayscale in the darkness. “I’m sorry. I can try to relax.”

Blaine immediately shakes off the apology. Carefully, he extracts his hand, his heart breaking when he sees Kurt wince. “I—I’m just not ready. Do you think we could… like this?” Blaine presses their bodies together, slotting their hips. Kurt gasps, this time out of what Blaine knows for sure is pleasure.

“Yeah,” Kurt manages. His hips buck upwards into Blaine’s, already picking up on a staggering rhythm, and he’s growing hard again. “This is fine, too.”

Blaine can hear the relief, and knows that he made the right choice. Later, when they’re lying naked underneath blankets in a hazy afterglow, Kurt nuzzles into the back of Blaine’s neck and whispers, “Thank you.”

Blaine scoots closer, and the only sensible thing he can think to say is, “I love you, Kurt.”

He does. So, so much.

**2.** **Senior Year—September**

“I swear, it  _knows_ when I’m alone. It’s like some furry, rodent terrorist.”

Kurt picks Blaine up after school, still wearing his apron from work. Blaine can smell the sticky-sweet coffee shop scent that clings to him—the one that Kurt claims no soap can ever  _quite_ get rid of, though he still showers at least twice a day to attempt it.

Blaine sets his backpack on the floor of the passenger side. “Maybe he’s on a crusade.”

Kurt huffs a laugh. “Trying to convert me to what? Unemployment? Well, it’s working.” He pauses and glances at Blaine. “So how was your day?”

The car is caught in a heavy line of traffic—students attempting to exit the parking lot all at once. Blaine catches sight of Tina, Sam, and Brittany walking past the football field in animated conversation. He briefly remembers an invitation to the Lima Bean, though he’s not sure Kurt would be up for that. “It was pretty uneventful. Except for glee club.”

“That’s no surprise.”

“We’re trying to crown the new Rachel,” Blaine explains with an amused smirk.

“Oh, well. That’s obviously you,” Kurt replies, rolling his eyes.

“Everyone keeps telling me that. Am I  _really_  that similar to Rachel?”

Kurt laughs. “Sometimes. You’re probably more self-aware, and sweeter. But you’re both very talented. Ambitious. You’re both going places…”

The pause after Kurt trails off is saturated—Blaine can instantly tell. He regrets bringing up the topic. Then again, there’s a moment every time he’s with Kurt when they accidentally wander into this uncomfortable territory, and Blaine can see how much it still hurts for Kurt to be reminded. More than five months have passed since the audition. Four, since Kurt handed Blaine the letter and sobbed against his shoulder when they hugged.

Should it still hurt this much?

Blaine looks over at Kurt, who is silently staring at the bumper of the car in front of them. He knows that he’s picturing it—the city, the school. The dreams. Kurt does this so often that he probably doesn’t even realize it when he slips out of the present.

But Blaine does. He has for months now, and he knows that this whole waiting-until-next-year thing just isn’t going to work. As much as he’d love to head off to New York together, it just isn’t feasible. Not when Kurt has to pull himself away from reality just to cope.

So Blaine makes a decision, sitting in Kurt’s car. He’s worried about what it will mean for them, but his fear is dwarfed by the way Kurt barely blinks as he turns them onto the street. Blaine can handle being left behind, if only for a while. They’ll still have each other. It might take some convincing, but…

All Kurt needs is a little push.

 **3.**   **Senior Year—February**

There’s a moment, before Blaine helps Kurt put his jacket back on and musters up the courage to  _say_ something more. Before Kurt brushes him off, leaning in to whisper, “ _I’ll see you downstairs_.”

They’re still laying side-by-side, the white sheets of the bed tangled, though their limbs aren’t touching anymore. Blaine is reveling, because he had thought  _this_ was gone. He had actually  _mourned_  Kurt, or at least, he had mourned any possibility of them being together. Even if “this” is only temporary. Blaine sits up on his elbow, tilting himself towards Kurt.

Kurt has gotten leaner, sharper in so many ways. A part of Blaine misses his softness, but perhaps it’s just nostalgia. God, though, is Kurt beautiful. All angles and white skin.

Kurt sits up and looks at him. Blaine recognizes his expression—he’s received it so many times before, when Kurt is still coming down from an orgasm and his affection shines through. There’s no fortified, sarcastic exterior. It’s another part of the softness that Blaine misses, and seeing it now—still a part of Kurt—makes him ache.

“I love you,” Blaine says without much thought. “I’ve never loved anyone so much. I don’t think I ever will.”

Kurt blinks, clearly caught off-guard and taking stock of the situation—the clothes on the floor, the jumbled sheets, the bite mark on Blaine’s shoulder. But before the panic comes, Kurt’s lips part as if he’s about to speak. A reflex, Blaine thinks. But he knows it now—knows that Kurt feels it too. That he never stopped.

So when Kurt ends the silence—“we should get dressed”—Blaine complies.

For the first time in weeks, he allows himself a glimmer of hope.

**4.** **NYADA—December**

It takes a few days for the hints to become obvious to Blaine—the way that their hair products are suddenly organized by color. The barely noticeable rearrangements of furniture. When he comes home to find that the bed is re-made, in a different way than he’d done it that morning, the duvet neatly folded back.

It’s finals week, and Kurt is cracking.

Blaine hadn’t been around to see him the previous semester, too busy preparing for graduation in Lima. Rachel hadn’t mentioned any concerns, but perhaps she’d been too preoccupied to notice. Kurt hides these types of things, buries them in small gestures. He only lets it show when he’s alone with himself, but there’s always some evidence left behind.

When Blaine notices that their tea collection has been alphabetized, he develops a plan.

*

It’s five minutes before Kurt gets home, and Blaine has spent an hour preparing. He’s made dinner—a bourbon chicken dish that he knows Kurt loves, which they haven’t had time to prepare recently. A bag from the bakery is sitting on the table, along with a bottle of wine. Blaine has even lit candles—so many that a stranger would walk in and probably think that he was performing some kind of creepy, one-man séance. But the effect is a warm glow, cast around the apartment and leaving the corners in shadows.

He’s in the bedroom when he hears the door sliding open, and he walks out into the living room to find Kurt staring around in surprise.

 “What’s all this?” Kurt asks distractedly.

“I checked your schedule. You don’t have another performance for two days, and you’re off of work tomorrow,” Blaine explains. He gestures around the room. “This is our night to relax. We’re going to have dinner, watch horrendously trashy television, and we’re not going to think about school or work.”

He watches Kurt take it in—the food on the table and the lit television screen. Kurt offers a pouty smile. “You rented America’s Next Top Model.”

“Cycle six, because I know it’s secretly your favorite one.”

Kurt turns towards him, lips still curved upwards. “It  _is_.”

“Good, because you’re going to watch it with me.” Blaine approaches Kurt and takes his hand. He slowly begins peeling off the winter glove Kurt is wearing, gripping the fingertip in between his own. He doesn’t need to look up to know that Kurt is beaming now.

“Have I told you you’re my favorite fiancé?”

“I had an inkling,” Blaine replies easily. He gets the glove off, and tosses it aside onto the table. “After all of this, I’m taking you to bed, and I am going to prove that point even more so.”

Kurt tilts Blaine’s face towards him, his newly-bare hand still cold from outside. “Thank you,” he says, so sincerely that Blaine melts into it and leans into the touch.

“You’re welcome. Always.”

**5.** **Lima—November**

Blaine stands beside Sam backstage and watches the Warblers from the wings. He’s proud and grinning, not even bothering to look for any flaws. They sound amazing, and it’s partially because of  _him_. The looks on the boys’ faces remind Blaine of his own first performance—the way he’d been shaking the entire time, but nothing in his life had been quite as exciting as being onstage.

They finish their song with a flourish, and the audience bursts into applause. Blaine doesn’t know for sure that they’ll win, but either way he is so happy to be a part of this.

“That was really good,” Sam observes from beside him, where he’s surveying the scene with crossed arms.

“It really, really was,” Blaine agrees.

*

They’re still waiting for the awards when Blaine wanders out into the lobby for the brief intermission. He spots David, and gives him a little wave before walking over. Dazed, Blaine is greeted by a hug that surrounds him.

“Congratulations,” David says, glancing around at the crowd of parents. “I don’t know much about show choir, but that sounded awesome.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says, bursting with joy. It’s bizarre how he takes the compliment personally, when really he’s only a teacher. It’s not the same rush as performing, but… Blaine decides not to make the comparison. There’s a whole world of what-if’s that he chooses not to consider, nowadays.

“I’m gonna go back to my seat,” David says. “But I’ll meet you afterwards, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good luck!” David retreats, leaving Blaine to stand alone a few feet from the refreshments table. There’s still a few minutes before he needs to find his way backstage. He considers mingling, but doesn’t notice any familiar faces.

Until his eyes land on Kurt.

He and Rachel are chatting in the corner by the doors. Blaine is surprised—the New Directions don’t have Sectionals for another week. They must have come as audience members. A numb anxiety spreads through Blaine, though he doesn’t let it show on his face.

He’s learned to see Kurt—to smile and make friendly conversation, and to accept what they are. He’s become good at wearing a mask of contentedness, but the melancholy sensation always returns in moments when he least expects it, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

As if Kurt can hear his thoughts, they lock eyes across the lobby. Neither one of them waves, though there’s a twitch of recognition in Kurt’s mouth.

 But then a strange thing happens.

They don’t look away. There’s no dropping their eyes to the floor, or flitting their focus elsewhere. Just a long pause, and suddenly neither of them is smiling anymore.

Blaine can read it, even from across the room, as if Kurt is standing beside him and whispering it into his ear. They both know it’s wrong, that this reality is just some world, alternate to the way things are supposed to be. And because of that, Blaine knows that it can never be a happy one.

Blaine is the first to blink, slipping out of a trance, and finally Kurt shakes his head and turns back to Rachel. She appears to be too busy speaking to notice, but Kurt looks pale listening to her. Blaine is feeling dizzy, as if he’s just stepped from a room of total darkness into a golden other-world.

Because when he’d looked at Kurt, he’d seen something else too. It wasn’t over, and it wasn’t hopeless. There was still a happy ending, buried somewhere deep inside of his future.

Blaine joins the flow of the crowd, back into the dim auditorium, as if his legs are buoying him from beneath and mindlessly carrying towards something better— something he has forgotten.

Something a lot like home.

**1.** **Lima—February**

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Kurt says. The light from the lamp on the bedside table casts the curve of his mouth in shadow, accentuating the elation radiating from him. Blaine tightens his grip around Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer on the bed until they’re sharing air.

It’s nothing like the time at Schuester’s wedding, when both of them had felt terrified and guarded. This time, the unexpected leaves them both breathless with relief, perhaps because there is no uncertainty in it. They can laugh and feel safe—it’s something they’ve navigated before.

Blaine chuckles, but he replies in a serious tone. “We do, though. It’s so hard, Kurt. To miss you.”

In his arms, Kurt moves so that he’s balanced above Blaine. Their chests are inches from one another—Blaine’s pulse is still racing from minutes before. Kurt is wearing an unreadable expression, but his eyes are glittering with… what? Mischief? Excitement?

“Do you still want to marry me?”

_Oh. That._

Blaine doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course I do.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Nodding, Blaine wholeheartedly agrees. Yes. He wants to be Kurt’s fiancé again. He wants to make it work this time. They’re older now, maybe wiser, and he truly believes it can be different. But Kurt is still studying him, and then it dawns upon Blaine.

“Wait,” he says. “Do you mean… right  _now_?”

“Yes.” Kurt is so matter-of-fact about it, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when really it’s completely out-of-character.

Blaine parts his lips, processing the request. The romantic part of him wants to leap at the chance—perhaps it was always the planning that messed everything up. Perhaps they just needed to dive in headfirst, and let fate sort out the kinks. If Blaine has learned anything, fate is definitely in their favor.

But the responsible part of him also chimes in.

“We have to go to the wedding tomorrow,” he points out.

“Oh… yeah.” Kurt frowns, working his jaw as he thinks. “Okay, then. The day after. We’ll drive to Vegas, or Traverse City, or  _anywhere_. We can even fly. I just—“

Kurt cuts himself off, but Blaine finishes the thought. “Want to make up for lost time.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “I don’t  _want_ to reconsider. This is it. This is what I want for the rest of my life, and I can’t sit here  _waiting_ for it anymore.”

“I feel the same,” Blaine says.

“So you’ll do it?”

Kurt is sunbright and hopeful, in a way that makes Blaine know this isn’t reckless. It’s exhilarating, and scary. But it still somehow makes sense.

“I will.”


	11. Pont de l'Archeveche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 Prompt: "Legacy"  
> Kurt and Blaine have their honeymoon in Europe.  
> No spoilers/warnings!

“I feel like such a  _tourist_.”

“We  _are_ tourists.”

Kurt huffs. He scans the hundreds of padlocks in front of them, all of the initials and names carved into the metal, or drawn on in faded print. The cynical side of him wonders how many of these couples have broken up.  _Wow, Kurt. Way to see the glass half full._

Blaine fiddles with the key, struggling with the lock in his hand.

“Isn’t this bad for the bridge?”

“Oh my  _God_ , Kurt. Will you please just let us be romantic honeymooners? It’s like the Trevi Fountain all over again.”

Kurt sniffs at that, but he smiles affectionately at the way Blaine is clearly flustered, and he offers his palm. “Give it to me.”

Blaine hands the lock over, along with the key. It takes Kurt a few seconds, but eventually he has it open. He pauses to make sure Blaine is looking, and then bends down to secure the small padlock around the meshwork of the fence.

When he stands up straight, he surveys it—the lock is tiny in comparison to those that surround it, but Kurt can still make out the letters etched into its steel face.

_K+B_

“What do I do with the key? Throw it in the Seine?”

“No,” Blaine says gently. “We should keep it. I want to keep it.”

Kurt glances from the lock to Blaine, and he catches the way that Blaine is staring down at the fence with a thoughtful expression. He wonders if it makes Blaine feel like he’s a part of something bigger, something lasting. Strangers will walk past this every day, likely never knowing that it is there to represent  _them._

Looking at Blaine, Kurt feels a whole different kind of permanence. The way that Blaine’s curls, loose from the windiness of the day, sweep across his eyes. The way that his lips curls ever-so-slightly at the edges.

Kurt thinks about what it means to have someone. He thinks about “forever”.

“We’ll keep it then,” he says, and leans close enough to link his arm with Blaine’s.

They stand there for a while, staring down at their miniscule contribution to the landmark. The sun climbs higher overhead, light winking off the river. The world continues behind them, completely unaware of the two of them, and their private moment of infinity.


	12. Birthday Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 Prompt: "Midnight"  
> Set sometime not long after “Glease” (I’m not too hung up on logistics). Straight-up Blaingst.

Blaine wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday to a blinking light on his phone—a voicemail.

 _“New message. Saturday, 12:02 AM,”_ an electronic voice informs him. Blaine sits up in bed, curious, cradling the phone in the crook of his shoulder. At the beginning of the recording, there’s a small stretch of silence. And then a voice.

Blaine recognizes it immediately, and he feels his throat tighten.

_“You’re probably asleep… I’m sorry I called so early. I was just up and I remembered that today’s your birthday and…”_

Blaine hears a sound, a shuffling. It’s alarming how quickly he can picture Kurt’s bedroom—the way it looks at night, how the small space seems cozy.

 _“It feels weird that it’s something I’m just remembering,”_ Kurt’s voice continues.  _“I—I don’t know why, but I couldn’t ignore it. Last year, I spent weeks planning for it, and this time I almost forgot.”_

There’s another pause, and Blaine wonders if Kurt had forgotten he was being recorded. But then he hears a static-y rush of air, like a wave crashing—Kurt is sighing.

_“You were going to come to New York to see Streetcar, remember?”_

Blaine does remember. He still has the plane ticket, the one Kurt had purchased for him months ago. It’s sitting in the drawer in his nightstand. He’d never returned it.

_“I don’t know why I’m saying all this. Oh God, this is probably the first birthday call you’re going to get, and I’m saying all of this stupid stuff… Look, I just… I hope that you have a happy birthday. I really, really do, and… I miss you. Happy birthday, Blaine.”_

There’s more quiet air, and then the message cuts off. Blaine pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it—the small counter tallying the seconds as he waits, his own faint reflection in the screen. It’s the first time he’s heard Kurt’s voice since… Blaine tries not to recall the exact details of the night of the play.

There are more notifications—texts, no doubt, from Sam and Tina and probably Cooper. Blaine considers hanging up to go read them. Those messages would probably be simple, happy ones. Messages that wouldn’t give him an awkward, mingling feeling of hope and loss. He knows that he should hang up.

Instead, Blaine hits replay and holds the phone to his ear, waiting for the sound of Kurt’s voice to repeat its words, again and again, pretending that Kurt is beside him, speaking to him.

 It’s not much of a gift, but it’s something.


	13. Anything You Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 Prompt: "Needle"  
> Blaine surprises Kurt by getting a tattoo.  
> No warnings. Pure, unadulterated fluff. <3

“You did  _not._ ”

“A dare is a dare.”

“Okay, if  _I_ dare you, it’s a dare. If  _Santana_ dares you, it’s a  _bad idea_. Always.”

Blaine reaches over his shoulder, brushing his fingers over the spot that’s still sore and a little bit itchy. He winces. “You have one. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”

“Yes,” Kurt concedes, hovering behind Blaine, his face visible in the mirror. “I’ll admit that I made some… ill-advised decisions during my whole  _rebellion_ phase. But that doesn’t mean that you should too.”

“Well, it’s kind of late for that.”

Kurt sighs. “It’s small, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see then.”

For a second, Blaine is sheepish (and kind of afraid that Kurt is going to tease him. The whole thing had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, of course). But he musters up some courage and pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing his bare back to Kurt.

Blaine is still struggling to get the shirt entirely off when he hears Kurt snort with laughter. He pulls his head out and smiles meekly at Kurt’s reflection. “Do you like it?”

“ _It’s got Barbara Hershey_ ,” Kurt reads. He’s grinning, eyes fixed on Blaine’s naked skin and the tiny, tiny tattoo. “Oh my God.”

“I thought it might make you feel better about yours.”

“We’re a walking advertisement for  _Beaches.”_ The thought makes Kurt laugh harder.

Blaine turns around, kind of proud of himself that Kurt at least thought the joke was  _funny._ “So, do you like it?”

“I love it. I take everything I said back. I really do love it,” Kurt repeats. He circles his fingers around Blaine’s wrists. “I can’t believe you did that. I thought you were afraid of needles.”

“I am,” Blaine says.

“Come here.” Kurt drags Blaine closer and catches him in a warm kiss. “Though, do me a favor and run any permanent body modification by me next time around?” he says when they part.

“Will do.”

“In the meantime…” Kurt’s eyes trail downward, roaming Blaine’s chest. He can feel himself go a bit pink, purely from the heat of the gaze. “I think I’ve got another dare for you.”

“Just let me get my shirt on.”

“Oh, trust me,” Kurt says. “You won’t be needing that.” He gives Blaine’s wrist a tug as he leads them towards the bedroom. Blaine doesn’t resist, of course.

A dare is a dare.


	14. Ten Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15 Prompt: "Occasion"  
> Ten years after the fact, Burt reflects on Kurt and Blaine’s marriage. (Older!Klaine anniversary fic)  
> No spoilers/warnings!

There have been moments over the years when Burt has had his doubts about the two of them. Only seven months into the marriage, he’d opened the door in the middle of winter to find Kurt standing on his doorstep with a suitcase, still fuming after a two hour plane ride. He’d listened to his son proclaim that he was “done”—that he was spending the weekend there while he found his new place.

It only took forty-five minutes for the doorbell to ring again. He watched Kurt sulk as Carole invited Blaine in. Burt knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t stop thinking it— _they’re only kids_.  _They don’t know anything._  But he’d listened from the living room to the hushed, staccato conversation in the kitchen, only slowing down enough for him to make out the words “I’m sorry” and “me too”.

The next morning before breakfast, he’d caught Kurt in the kitchen while everyone was still sleeping.

“Everything okay with you two?” he asked.

Kurt smiled gently, measuring out teaspoons of coffee. “Yes. It was just a fight.”

It wasn’t until the boys were leaving later that day, when he saw Kurt stop before they got into the car to adjust Blaine’s scarf, that Burt believed it. His son’s lips moved as he whispered something to Blaine, something that made him tilt his head back in laughter, and Kurt’s face lit up. He wrapped his arms around Blaine, as if he had been missing him for months.

It was love, and not infatuated, childish love. The real, bumpy kind—love that runs deep enough to sting, but isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Burt has seen other fights, pettier ones, bigger ones. He and Carole have sat at the Thanksgiving table pretending not to hear while Kurt and Blaine have an argument in the other room, failing to keep their voices down. He’s overheard murmurs about sleeping on couches.

But he’s also seen other things—hugs from behind, sneaky kisses when they thought no one was looking. He’s seen his boy’s eyes glow like a cartoon character’s or something, and they’re always staring at Blaine when it happens. Burt’s watched Blaine give up his job in New York to spend a year in Paris with Kurt. Watched the two of them cry tears of joy when they found out they were going to have a daughter.

So now, when Burt stands in the middle of a crowded hall—a little bit fancy for his taste, but that’s Kurt for you—he doesn’t have any doubts whatsoever.

“What are you thinking about?” Kurt eyes him suspiciously. He had asked Burt for a dance— _Blaine’s feet are worn out, now it’s your turn_. Burt notices the almost invisible wrinkles that are springing up around Kurt’s eyes, the ones that are barely-there now but  _will_  be someday. His kid is in his thirties. The thought still makes him dizzy.

“I’m just really proud of you. And Blaine, too.”

Kurt’s expression relaxes into one of pleasant surprise. He leans down enough to rest his chin on Burt’s shoulder, and Burt can feel his face move as he smiles, through the fabric of the too-expensive suit Kurt had picked out for him.

“I’m proud of us too,” he says. “And thank you, Dad. I love you.”

Burt knows that ten years doesn’t always mean forever. But when he catches Blaine’s eye across the crowded room, sees him lift his hand in a tiny wave, Burt can’t help but think about how lucky he is, that he got to see his son find someone he loves. He waves back, hearing the song come to the close and realizing he’s gonna have to hand Kurt over again.

Still, he couldn’t imagine a better person to hand him to, and that’s something worth celebrating.


	15. Splendid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 Prompt: "Please"  
> Meet-cute AU: Kurt is a barista and develops a crush on the absurdly polite guy who always comes in.

Kurt’s not sure what he expected from New York customers, but he can’t deny that every once in a while he is so blown away that he has to pause and breathe. Working every day has become a flurry of clipped demands and rude silences, all accompanied by impassive stares. Kurt knows that the people who come through the coffee shop are probably very busy. It’s not purposeful. But the interactions start to wear him down after a little while, especially when he’s only making minimum wage.

Since he hasn’t had any luck with his recent auditions, that doesn’t appear to be changing any time soon.

There  _is_ one guy, though. He comes in all the time when Kurt’s working, must live close by. He’s always dressed up—Kurt figures he’s either rich or just way too into Brooks Brothers. Copious bowties aside, the guy is cute, kind of short with a smile that absolutely lights up his handsome face. And Kurt knows this because  _every single time_ he takes the stranger’s order for a medium drip, he is always greeted by a grin and a “please?” On top of that, there’s the warm-hearted “thank you” when he hands the man his order. A second of  _actual human eye contact_.

It’s a little depressing that Kurt is attracted to someone for their manners ( _what does that say about his standards?_ ) But every time this handsome, polite stranger comes in, he gets lost wondering about him—what he does for a living, where he’s from, what he likes. Kurt thinks he looks a little young to be married, but who knows? Kurt could be dealing with a crush on a model with a wife and kids. A model with a  _very_ strange, albeit endearing, fashion sense… the guy had to be gay, right?

Kurt really doesn’t know, but it doesn’t stop him from fantasizing.

 *

It’s an hour after the lunch rush, and Kurt is using the lull to catch up on chores. His co-worker Elise is off wiping down tables, so he’s in charge of dishes and cleaning the machines—two tasks that he, oddly enough, doesn’t hate. He gets kind of distracted, and only notices when he walks past the counter to get more sanitizer that Mr. Polite Stranger is standing quietly on the other side of it.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” Kurt says immediately, wondering how long the guy’s been waiting. He doesn’t look displeased, at least. “Your usual? I’ll go make it now…”

The guy raises his dark eyebrows. “You know my coffee order?”

“Yeah, medium drip.” Kurt grabs a cup off the stack.

“Wow. Well… yes, please. That would be splendid, if it’s no trouble.”

Kurt’s back is turned, so the stranger doesn’t see him grin and shake his head at that.  _Splendid._   _If it’s no trouble_. When he glances over, the guy is wandering the counter, awkwardly perusing the bakery items. He catches Kurt’s eye and looks away with a shy smile.

“Busy day?”

Kurt shrugs. “No more than usual.”

“How long are you here?” Kurt honestly can’t tell if the guy’s just making small talk, but the question piques his interest. He wants to ask  _why?_

“Until four.”

“Oh, so that’s not much longer.” The stranger pauses, clearly searching for something else to say. Or maybe he has something in mind, but is struggling with it. Kurt could be completely off, but he has an inkling. Unfortunately, the conversation is cut short when Kurt finishes preparing the drink.

The guy still appears to be having some internal debate, and Kurt is struck by a sudden burst of confidence. He grabs the marker off the counter and scrawls his phone number on the side of the cup, with a tiny note,  _Just in case. –Kurt_

“Here you go,” he says when he hands it over.

The stranger smiles, all squinty and devastatingly adorable in a way that makes Kurt  _really_ hope that his assumption wasn’t off-base. “Thank you.”

 *

The remainder of the shift goes by, and Kurt swings back and forth between chastising himself for giving out his unsolicited number to a customer and feeling a twinge of excitement. It’s something he’s never done before, and he’s a little proud of himself for that.

“I’m heading out now,” he says to Elise at four.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

On his way out the door, Kurt turns on his phone. There’s a disappointing second as it starts up when he has absolutely no messages.

But then the notifications start chiming in, and they’re all from an unknown number. His heart does a little flip.

_Hi, this is the guy from the coffee shop. I almost didn’t see your number. I’m so glad I did._

_Sorry if I came off as an idiot, but you’re really cute. I’m terrible at flirting._

_This is your number right? God, I hope I’m not reading into this wrong…_

_Well, if it is, would you like to get dinner sometime? I’d invite you out for coffee, but…_

_Blaine, btw. My name is Blaine._

As he reads the series of texts, Kurt’s can feel his face twist into a wide grin, the kind so big that he can feel the stretch of muscles. People passing him on the sidewalk are probably wondering what got into him, and he can’t even bring himself to care. He opens up a message to reply.

_You’re not wrong at all. This is Kurt, and dinner would be “splendid”. If it’s no trouble. ;)_


	16. Something Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 Prompt: "Rent"  
> Just drabble.

“Sometimes, this doesn’t feel like it’s my life.”

The snowflakes are thick enough that Kurt’s face is half-hidden by them, but what Blaine can’t make out, he can imagine—a subtle smile, and eyes squinting against the wind and the dark. He’s grateful that they decided to come outside to see the first real snow of winter, but Kurt’s comment makes him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, an odd mixture of defensive and thoughtful, his voice a little higher than usual. But he’s grinning. “Moments like this. They feel… _stolen._  Or perhaps borrowed.”

“Moments like this?” Blaine cocks his head.

“Yeah.”

Blaine wants to press for more, but in the second of silence, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t need to. “I think I can see what you mean.”

“It makes me wonder what I did to earn them.”

A happiness that is both genuine and melancholic springs up inside of Blaine. He gets a hold of Kurt’s gloved hand and pulls him closer, out of the distance his mind has taken him through. “I know that feeling, but… you’ve earned it, Kurt.”

“Paying rent,” Kurt says, with a soft laugh. He settles against Blaine, and looks at him with a clear, beautiful expression of contentedness. “I don’t think I would have ever believed it when I was younger, though.”

Blaine can’t help but smirk. “Well, you know what they say.”

Kurt flashes him a curious, expectant look.

“It’s get better.”

He manages to dodge the snowball that’s tossed at his head, but when Kurt pulls Blaine in for a kiss, he doesn’t evade it at all. Because, even if Kurt is right and this happiness is not his own, Blaine has no plans of returning it anytime soon.


	17. The Third Eye Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 Prompt: "Scarf"  
> A brief, goofy loft conversation a few days after “I Do”, featuring Santana and puns

“Kurt, you’ve been wearing a lot of scarves recently.”

Santana overhears Rachel’s observation and is momentarily distracted from the episode of  _Dance Moms_ playing in the background of the living room, her psychic Mexican third eye suddenly wide open with interest. She catches Kurt shrugging the comment off, and she knows her instinct isn’t wrong—never is, really.

“C’mon, Queen Elizabeth. What’s up with the scarves?”

“I always wear scarves,” Kurt replies, with an ease that is  _obviously_ forced.

“That’s the same one you had on yesterday. Don’t pretend this is some  _fashion_ thing. I’ve seen you throw out shirts after just one wear.”

Kurt seems momentarily flustered, and the sadistic bitch inside of Santana is absolutely delighted by it. “That’s really none of your business.”

“Take it off, then.”

“No.”

Even Rachel has perked up a bit from her place on the couch, looking torn between regret and intrigue. “Why not?” she asks, though Santana suspects that even someone as uptight as Berry can make a guess as to why their roommate has been sporting winter wear indoors for the past two days. They’d both seen that cheesy duet going down at Schue’s wedding. It was like some sort of gross mating dance between Santa’s gayest little helpers.

Kurt stares between the two of them, exasperated. Finally, he sighs and unwinds the red scarf from around his neck, revealing a number of faded-yet- _very_ -visible hickeys. “There. Are you happy?”

“Jesus, you look like you were mauled.”

“Very funny,” Kurt retorts.

“I didn’t know Blaine was such a meat eater. I thought only the big, hairy guys were  _bears._ ”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Looks like we know what Hobbit had for second breakfast,” Santana calls, though Kurt has already disappeared behind the curtain. She settles back, shaking her head while Rachel frowns at her in disapproval. “I’m almost gonna be sad when those two are back together. Seeing him blush like that is  _way_ too much fun.”


	18. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19 Prompt: "Twist"  
> An unexpected early Klaine happening. Really, just a reason for me to explore bashful!Blaine and a potential lingerie kink in the form of drabble.

“Oh.”

They’d been chatting in Kurt’s car after dinner, innocently enough, until one of them had happened to notice how empty the parking lot was. Kurt isn’t completely sure of who did what first, but suddenly they were sitting in the backseat and making out, not-so-innocently at all.

Of course, things didn’t stop there, and then— _whoops_ —Blaine was straddling Kurt’s hips. It was weird, how often that happened these days.

Blaine follows Kurt’s eyes down to the open button of his pants, and even in the dark, Kurt can see his face go completely red. “Oh my god, I forgot I was wearing those.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything—just runs his thumb over the line of black lace peeking out below the waistband of Blaine’s jeans. The pattern of the fabric isn’t quite discernable. Maybe bordering on floral. Funnily enough, Kurt’s only really  _surprised_ by the color—Blaine tends to wear bright things. But the hint of dark is striking against the skin visible beneath it. He’s kind of mesmerized.

“It was a gag gift,” Blaine explains without Kurt asking. “From Santana, after she found out about us. To ‘ _spice up our love life’_. It was stupid, but I came across them today and was curious, and I decided to try them on. I didn’t know we’d be…”

Blaine trails off, his lips still swollen and lovely from Kurt kissing him. The past few months have been full of these tiny embarrassing moments—often times on Kurt’s part—where they’ve begun bridging the gaps of what intimate details are okay to share with one another. It’s disarming, every time Blaine slips into unsureness about himself, as if Kurt could ever be repelled by him.

“I like them,” Kurt says. Even he is taken off guard by it, though it’s not a lie at all. Maybe it’s something aesthetic, or just the mental picture of Blaine in nothing but revealing lingerie, but he’s sort of dying to see more.

“Really?” Blaine’s eyes go wide, though he’s visibly relieved. Combined with the way his hair is coming loose, he looks oddly childlike. It makes Kurt want to laugh, though he doesn’t. “I… I kind of like them too. Is that weird?”

“Hmm, I’m not really sure… but you should probably take your pants off now.”

Blaine grins, bashfully ducking his head so that all Kurt can make out are his long eyelashes.

"Well, if you insist."


	19. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20 Prompt: "Uniform"  
> The long-awaited return of the Nightbird costume, plus some feels.

“This is incredible.”

Kurt runs his fingers along the ridges of the costume, examining himself in the mirror. Given all of his experience in tailoring, he’s impressed by several of the small details. As far as he knows, Blaine has never really shown interest in that sort of thing. Aside from the whole puppet incident, which they’ve both made an effort to forget.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.” Blaine is seated on the bed behind him, though Kurt can’t see his expression in the mirror. “It was a hobby.”

“I mean it,” Kurt says, twirling around to examine his own backside. The costume is too small on him, obviously. There’s a good inch or two of exposed ankle, and the black fabric stretches across his shoulders. His ass looks fabulous, though, he’s happy to note. “Did you really do all of this yourself?”

“Well, you know, I had a lot of free time back then,” Blaine says softly.

Kurt turns to him, momentarily forgetting the outlandish outfit. He doesn’t miss the sadness in Blaine’s tone—the sort of downward inflection. The too-long stretch of time when  _they_ weren’t  _them_. It’s only something they speak about in those safe moments when they’re alone together, curled up and nearing sleep, in a place where bad memories can’t cast a shadow. Kurt has had apologies whispered in his ear hundreds of times, and he’s returned those  _sorrys_ , holding Blaine tighter to him like a promise.

Now, in the light of day, it’s not quite as easy to have that sort of talk. Not when the day has been so precariously light-of-heart—Kurt rifling through their shared closet and coming across the outfit, both of them giggling as he _insisted_ on trying it on. It’s all so sweet, innocent and easily spoiled. So instead of saying what he wants to, Kurt just lets the comment pass. “How do I look?”

“Good, actually,” Blaine responds, perking up. He smiles.

“It’s a little bit small.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t know if capes are really my thing.”

Blaine gets up, finally sidling closer to examine Kurt more closely. His gaze sends a tiny shiver down Kurt’s spine, though he lets himself be stared at without flinching. “I’m pretty sure I disagree,” Blaine assesses. Kurt doesn’t miss the molten quality of his words.

“Well,” Kurt replies, attempting to sound unaffected. “Perhaps I’ll consider a career in vigilante justice if the whole show business thing doesn’t work out.”

Blaine’s response is to graze the uniform with his fingers, just over Kurt’s ribs.

“In the meantime, I should probably take this off.”

“Wait,” Blaine says. For just a second, he seems unsure, then, “leave it on.”

Kurt grins, heat spreading from his face all the way down to his toes. “Whatever you say, Nightbird.”


	20. Don't Forget to Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: "Wedding" and "Vacation"  
> Klaine keeps up their tradition of wedding night hook-ups.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

“Blaine, your brother is thirty-six. It’s not exactly a surprise that he would finally settle down.”

“Except it is.” Blaine aims his gaze over Kurt’s shoulder, at the table of honor. Kurt doesn’t have to look to imagine the scene—Cooper and Theresa making mooneyes at each other, sharing kisses over glasses of champagne while relatives coo. Kurt thinks it’s kind of cute. Blaine grimaces. “It’s so weird to see him enamored with anyone but himself.”

“You should be happy for him.”

“I am. That doesn’t make it  _not_ weird.” Blaine turns his focus back to Kurt as they shift from foot-to-foot, to the rhythm of an implacable melody played by the string quartet. His expression immediately softens, and Kurt can tell that he’s no longer thinking about his brother. “Do you remember ours?” he asks, guiding Kurt two steps in sudden double-time before resuming the slow dance.

“Not really,” Kurt responds, clearly sarcastic, though there’s a momentary hesitation in Blaine’s face. “Of  _course_ I remember. Every second of it.”

“Do you remember what song we danced to?”

“Blaine, I picked it out.” Kurt waits for a response, but all he gets is expectantly raised eyebrows. “We danced to _Somewhere Only We Know_ , and we both were in tears by the end of it. I  _remember._ ”

“Just checking,” Blaine says, infuriatingly satisfied. He leans in to rest his chin on top of Kurt’s shoulder—a perfected gesture that always makes any frustration melt from Kurt’s limbs.

Kurt’s smiles for no one to see, and his voice dips lower. “I remember the honeymoon, too.”

“Even the surf lesson?”

Leave it to Blaine to recall the  _one_ episode from that vacation that was not a fond one. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Speaking of our honeymoon… I came across something while I was cleaning the other day, and I stuck it in our suitcase.”

“Something?”

“You remember the second night? With the—“

“ _Oh_. _”_

Blaine chuckles beside Kurt’s ear, and Kurt imagines he can feel Blaine’s cheeks warming. “I thought we could try that again. Though this time,” he pulls back, and Kurt can see that he is right. “Maybe a little bit harder?”

Kurt pretends to consider, as if the thought doesn’t make him want to shiver.  _Harder_? “I think five years is adequate time to justify a revival,” he says, attempting to sound pragmatic.

Blaine laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“It’s justified.”

“Wedding nights are kind of a thing for us, aren’t they?”

There’s a crackling as a microphone comes to life, and Kurt spots Cooper standing on the stage up front. “Speech time! Best man, get up here.”

“I’d better go,” Blaine says. Kurt reluctantly releases his hold.

“Don’t forget to point,” he says. He leans in to whisper, “I’ll meet you by the elevators when you’re done.”

Blaine takes a step back, offering him a dazzling grin. “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on Tumblr?](http://wunderxfunk.tumblr.com) uwu #shamelessselfpromo
> 
> But seriously. Thank you for reading my words. <3


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